


All of This Turbulence Wasn't Forecasted

by interstellarflowers



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bars and Pubs, Bartender!Andrew, Canon-Typical Violence, Cities, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, No beta I just die, POV Alternating, POV Andrew Minyard, POV Neil Josten, Paranoia, Roommates, a surprising amount of walking, andrew and aaron have a bad relationship because i'm bitter, enemies to lovers but emphasis on the enemies, i refuse to leave jean out of this, im sorry if this is nothing like the Real World™ im disconnected from reality, mentions of exy only, neil can use a computer, overpriced cafes, why do i forget what i just wrote whenever i have to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29150211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarflowers/pseuds/interstellarflowers
Summary: Neil moves to the Big City for a change of pace. He's Tired, paranoid, and in need of a room - one with a roommate!Andrew is Tired, angry, and *also* in need of a roommate!(Cloudy days, tall buildings, and general animosity ensue)Updates weekly!Tags/warnings will be updated as I post!
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten & Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 24
Kudos: 54





	1. I'm Tired of Your Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter (I think, if not, just let me know)! I hope to update as much as I can, but I have only myself (which includes a very low attention span) hope you enjoy!

Neil pauses, his hand reaching for the doorknob, wondering if he could still back out.

He remembers sitting on the cheap hotel mattress, blinds drawn, scrolling through apartment listings. He probably needed to room with someone, but even the halved prices were still steep. Unwilling to pay so much if he was just going to end up moving, he switched the filter settings to an even lower price. A decent-looking apartment showed up, though it was an ad for a roommate. It was one bedroom and a singular bath, but it looked like the best option. He messaged the owner of the ad, typing on the sticking keys without much thought. Whilst he waited for the message to send on the awful hotel wifi, he considered retracting it before it could reach them. He cringed at the thought of living with someone else, but the hotel bill was getting suspiciously high for just a temporary stay. Neil shut the computer, the magnetic click of the case eased some of the tension coursing through his veins. He stared at the exy sticker he had stuck onto its back, empty except for the tiny racquet next to the laptop’s logo. It would be fine, he had no obligation to speak with his roommate. Whoever he lived with would have to find a new roommate soon anyway. He couldn’t stay.

The person who put out the listing, someone named Nicky Hemmick, seemed pretty cheery and upbeat over the internet. Nicky said they would meet up at a coffee shop a few blocks away from Neil’s hotel, and if everything went smoothly, Nicky would show him the apartment, and Neil could decide if he wanted to stay. Neil had scanned the internet for “Nicky Hemmick” but the only relevant result he found was an outdated Facebook page. Neil looked through his pictures, but all he could find were old photos from high school. He stared at them like he could spot any hint of malevolence in Nicky’s graduation pictures. When searched, the last name “Hemmick” didn’t yield any helpful results, and none of Nicky’s Facebook friends had any apparent relation to him.

Neil couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or not but he’d dealt with worse than a weird roommate, and he supposed the lack of information meant there wasn’t much out of the ordinary. Still, Neil planned to leave a few minutes early so he could check out the venue and make sure Nicky was who he said he was.

He pulled the panel blinds closed and pulled on his coat and shoes, checking his reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, positive that his roots didn’t show and his contacts were in place. After a busy subway ride and one wrong turn, Neil found himself at a trendy new overpriced coffee place that boasted about some sort of new organic coffee drink, though Neil just hoped they had regular coffee. Not knowing whether to go inside, he waited outside for Nicky, who ended up being ten minutes late anyway. Nicky talked a bit loudly but he was friendly -a bit too friendly for Neil’s liking- but it was probably better than the alternative. They ordered, Nicky got some sort of green tea drink that he called “matcha”, and Neil just asked for plain coffee, not willing to take his chances. Unfortunately, it was too exorbitant for a simple cup; Neil wished he had gotten water instead, he was getting dangerously close to the bottom of his funds. They sat down at one of the small tables in front of the store.

“So! Neil! What do you do for work?” Nicky asked, concerningly excited for small talk.

“I don’t have a job at the moment, I just moved here. I’m from Millport, Arizona,” Neil answered.

“Uh, okay, where did you go to college? What major?” Nicky probably assumed he was younger than he actually was, he didn’t have the energy or credentials to keep up a fib about four years of Neil Josten’s life anyway. It didn’t matter though, because he had a story prepared.

“I didn’t go to college either. I worked for my parents right after high school, doing a few things with fund management and inventory.” It wasn’t as specific as he would’ve liked, but if he was too particular about his parents’ job he could risk being found out.

“Oh, so like math stuff,” Nicky replied. “What now? Are you here for college, or…”

“My dad wanted me to live on my own and work independently for a while, so I moved out. Something to do with experience, I think.”

Nicky nodded, seemingly interested. Neil didn’t know where to go from there, he didn’t think he could fabricate any more story that would hold up with his actual position that day. Nicky seemed like the type of person who talked a lot, so Neil decided to question him, though he wasn’t setting off any warning bells. “What do you do for work?”

Nicky rambled on, explaining, more than adequately, that he was a social media manager for a snack bar company, but he was ultimately planning to move back to Germany with his fiancé whom he had met via an international exchange program in high school. He said he had been staying in New York because his cousins lived nearby, but didn’t elaborate. Neil began to tune him out when Nicky began prattling about his dream wedding and something about being a “dog parent”, whatever that was supposed to have meant.

He was just about to excuse himself to the restroom for a moment of silence, but Nicky clapped his hands happily.

“Alright! You passed! Let’s head over to the apartment and you can see how you feel about it.” Neil had not thought it to be a test, but provoking Nicky for an answer would probably just lead to more wasted time, and he was interested to see how the apartment looked in real life.

It was on the fifth floor of a well-worn brick residential building, Neil didn’t know much about houses or design, but he supposed it had charm. It had an elevator, but Nicky said it didn’t always work. There were a couple of apartments on each floor, the room number was 403, but the 3 had fallen off, leaving a faded spot in its place. Inside, there was a smallish kitchen with a granite peninsula facing out towards the living room, with two windows on the side of the building, a TV in the middle. Facing the television was a small couch with three cushions, though it seemed more like a loveseat than a couch. Neil could probably lay on it with a little discomfort. To the right of the kitchen and living room, which were both against the leftmost wall, was a hallway that presumably led down to the bedrooms and bathroom. Nicky kicked off his shoes at the door and Neil followed suit, wandering after him down the hall. Nicky passed the first closed-door and opened the second, revealing an empty room with a window. It was small, but Neil would have trouble filling it anyway. Nicky took him on a somewhat unnecessary tour of his tiny abode after showing him his room, avoiding his bedroom. Neil was a little surprised that Nicky didn’t want to show him his room after giving him the details to the rest of his life over coffee, but Neil couldn’t blame him for wanting privacy, not that he thought Nicky had anything to hide. After the tour, Nicky walked back to the threshold and gestured to him, waiting for his verdict.

“It’s fine,” Neil said, not knowing what else he should say. “I wouldn’t mind living here.”

“Great!” Nicky replied happily. He handed him a key. “You can move in whenever, just tell me a few days in advance.”

He didn’t seem finished, but Neil jumped in. “I would like to move in as soon as possible if that’s okay.”

“Alright! Do you need help moving your things?”

Neil shook his head. “I didn’t bring any furniture, just my things.”

Nicky looked appalled. “Not even a bed?” Neil shook his head. Nicky thought for a moment, and then said “Well, you’re lucky I wanted to get rid of a few things! You can have my old bed.”

Before Neil could thank him, he added, “Oh, and another thing. You’re actually staying with my cousin, Andrew! He wanted me to look for a roommate for him. He’s not here right now.”

Neil’s confusion had probably shown on his face because Nicky continued, “Andrew asked me to interview potential roommates, he’s sort of shy and doesn’t do well with strangers.” Before Neil could protest, Nicky added, “Don’t worry, he barely talks. If you leave him alone, you’ll be fine, I promise.”

Neil hesitated, weighing his choices. He was fine with Nicky, he didn’t seem like a threat, though he was a little annoying. His options were running out, and Neil could try to find a new apartment but he was already here, and Nicky had already handed him the key like he was living there already. If Andrew didn’t talk as much, he’d be a better roommate than his cousin, and Neil could handle some basket case better than he could handle Nicky. He didn’t really have that much of a choice, as always. Neil sighed internally.

He knew he would regret it, but he nodded anyway. “I’ll take it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Even with a bed and a dresser in it, Neil’s room seems kind of empty. He stashes his bag under his bed, the rest of his clothing barely occupying the drawers. He would have to find a more secure solution for his more secretive things, but for now, this would have to do. Andrew hadn’t even uttered a word to him, and Neil wouldn’t have thought Andrew even noticed him save for a long, blank stare when he had first seen him. Neil didn’t mind, but if they ever crossed paths things would probably become awkward. He was glad Andrew had kept to himself, though.

Reticence or not, something was a bit off-putting about Andrew. He looked pretty strong, and he came off as rude and unwilling to talk rather than shy, though he had never spoken to Neil. The few times that Neil had seen him, he always looked like he was glaring at everything. Nicky called him shy though, so maybe he was just putting up a tough exterior. Neil still knows nothing about him, though, and doesn’t want to bet on Andrew being harmless. He could probably beat Neil in a fight without weapons.

Neil didn’t know how to ask for Andrew’s last name, and he couldn’t figure out how to bring it up with Nicky when he helped him move in, so he decided to do his own digging.

Neil mostly stays in his own room, using searching for potential jobs on his laptop or looking out of the window. He leaves his room to go running, use the bathroom, and eat. The walls are helplessly thin, though and he usually hears Andrew leave in the mornings, either to go to work or the gym. One day, while Neil is making lunch, Andrew comes home from his morning activity and heads to shower, dropping his wallet on the kitchen counter. The shower cuts on, the hum of running water filling the silence. After a minute or two, Neil carefully picks up Andrew’s wallet and looks at his ID, his last name, Minyard, printed evenly on the plastic-coated South Carolina license. He’s only 26, a year older than Neil, though he’s three inches shorter. There isn’t any other information that means anything of importance to him, so Neil closes it and puts it back on the counter, going back to his breakfast. When Andrew comes out, he pours himself a glass of water and glances at Neil, who is sitting at the counter, eating. Andrew glares like he has something to say, but just he retreats into his room.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A google search of “Andrew Minyard” doesn’t yield much either, of the only relevant result being a small news story of a car crash from nine or ten years ago, but there are no pictures to confirm if his roommate is even involved. The article was seemingly written briefly, with not much detail, though it did mention one of the victims being hospitalized. Neil looks into it, but no other articles were written at the same time, and Andrew’s South Carolina ID doesn’t match the state. California and South Carolina are far apart, though, so Neil dismisses the article as unrelated.

Later that night, Neil hears the front door slam shut and ventures out into the living room to confirm that Minyard has left, not bothering to close his window. Andrew’s rarely home, always leaving in the morning and night, usually a little after Neil finishes dinner. Realizing he should take his chance, he checks to see if the front door is locked, then makes his way to Andrew’s room. It’s locked via key, like Neil’s door, but Neil retrieves his lock picks from his pocket and gets to work. When the last pin clicks, he pushes on the door and steps into Andrew’s room. There isn’t much to see, it’s dark, and the light reveals a sparse, moderately clean, room containing a desk, bed, mirror, and dresser. The laptop on his desk requires a password, and Neil isn’t good with technology anyway. He goes through Andrew’s belongings, but the only items of any interest are a half-used pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Desperate for a single piece of useful information, Neil riffles through Andrew’s clothing, careful to put all of his clothing back in order. Finding nothing, he picks up the lighter and flicks it on and off a few times, the orange and blue flame shivering softly. Slightly annoyed with his lack of discovery, Neil sets the lighter down on the desk and locks the door from the inside, sliding up the unlocked window and climbing onto their adjoined fire escape. With some effort, he manages to close it from the outside and climbs back into his room, frustrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I don't have a beta reader, I might have a few errors! Feel free to point out any things you see, your support makes my Day! my tumblr is interstellar-flowers, I'll also link my little layout of the apartment in case anyone wants to see what I was (attempting to) describe! 
> 
> https://interstellar-flowers.tumblr.com/post/641991411533856768/here-are-my-plans-of-the-apartment-which-i-made
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> (also yes I am naming my chapters after mitski lyrics i just think she's neat)


	2. Here at My Cliff Looking Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew gives his thoughts on his new roommate, or at least what he knows about him. 
> 
> cw for violence, nothing graphic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for this one (i think?)

Nicky had told him about his roommate, though not much. His description consisted of how cute Nicky thought he was and how quiet he had been, though “quiet” meant nothing if it was by Nicky’s standards. Andrew tries not to grit his teeth. Not that Nicky had been wrong about his first observation, but Neil was too jumpy and Andrew often felt his stare on him when they saw each other in the kitchen, albeit this was not very often.

It wasn’t like he wanted a roommate, but it had been five months since he moved to this apartment, and he didn’t make enough to keep paying the rent alone. Loathe to meet people and ever withdrawn, Andrew had easily convinced Nicky to do the interviewing for him. Neil didn’t seem to be as friendly as Nicky had said he was, which Andrew didn’t mind, though this indicated Nicky seemed to be picking candidates based on looks; he hadn’t done much reconnaissance on Neil by the end of the interview. Andrew almost regretted asking Nicky to do it for him, but he was surprisingly easy to convince and Andrew couldn’t think of anyone else who would’ve done it at all. He supposed Nicky’s willingness to help him came from some misplaced sense of parental pride- Nicky had been elated when Andrew started living on his own, adamant about following him around Ikea and becoming his personal real estate agent. Andrew was certain he could have decided those things on his own, but he didn’t refuse his cousin’s help. Placatingly, Nicky had been equally, if not more, irritating about Aaron moving into the dorms at medical school without them.

Andrew was glad Neil kept to himself, and he supposed Nicky’s observations were right. The two of them barely regarded each other: Andrew was either working at the bar, writing in his room, or running errands, relegating most of his work to his room since Neil had moved in. Neil, as far as he knew, was still looking for a job, though Andrew never bothered to ask and didn’t care about it anyway. Usually, he went out running, usually leaving early in the morning before Andrew woke up and returning before Andrew made his trip to the gym. Sometimes Neil ran down the block and turned the corner; Andrew could see him from his window, deep in thought, shoes slapping the grimy concrete. He’d come back after hours without seeming tired: just thinking about it made Andrew sick.

Earlier that day, after a particularly grueling workout session, Andrew had gotten out of the shower to find that his wallet moved from where he left it. He hadn’t thought much about it, Neil had probably moved it so he could eat breakfast, but Andrew couldn’t shake his initial feeling of uneasiness.

When he prepared to leave for work that evening, he made sure his door was locked, checking to see that Neil was in his room. His room light was still on when Andrew left, but it wasn’t particularly late, so he thought nothing of it.

His roommate’s vigilance was the least of his worries, though. He has to work a Friday shift, like usual, though Tianna-a shorter strawberry blonde woman who usually works the shift after him-is doing a double shift, filling in for Jean. Andrew doesn’t care if Jean is present or not, but Tianna talks too much, and he can barely concentrate with her voice buzzing in his ear. As much as he hates to admit it, Jean is his most tolerable coworker. They have an agreement not to speak with each other unless strictly necessary, and Jean doesn’t if he decides to steal a few extra minutes on break. His violently french coworker hates dealing with overly intoxicated patrons, he tends to cut off anyone he deems too cumbersome. Andrew privately shares this sentiment; he sometimes wishes he could’ve chosen a profession with fewer alcoholic customers-in fact, he wouldn’t have minded doing something with no customers at all.

Besides Tianna’s unfortunate appearance, his shift is going as it usually does until he hears shouting coming from near the entrance of the bar. Two violent men are brawling, the bouncer and a few bolder patrons are trying to pull them apart. Their efforts to separate the two do not seem to be working; Tianna looks at Andrew expectantly, and Andrew thinks bitterly that Jean would’ve cut them off before this sort of thing happened. He doesn’t blame her for asking him to step in, the situation seems unpleasant to deal with and he’s uncharacteristically notorious for ending brawls, though Andrew privately thinks he’s more likely to be involved. He calmly walks around the counter and helps tug one of the guys away, though a stray fist lands in his side, flailing. Shoving down the initial wave of slithering anger, he steps away, trying not to brush arms with anyone. This is why he always uses the staff entrance and stays behind the bar when they’re busy, the writhing bodies tower over him, leaning closer and closer until he has no choice but to force his way into a vacant space.

Trying to shake the feeling, he glares at Tianna and motions for her to sort out the aftermath. She rolls her eyes and walks around the counter to try to get the two bruisers in order, short heels clicking across the sticky floor. Andrew curls his hands around the frigid steel of a cocktail shaker and forces the dregs of his anger to seep away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When he gets home, the faint greenish oven clock reads 1:43 am. He is preparing for bed when he notices his lighter has moved on his desk, though the room shows no sign of entry. A creeping feeling of disgust and horror crawls its path up his spine, too familiar and too wrong. He curls his hands into fists to stop their trembling. Throwing open one of his drawers, he realizes his clothing is wrong, in the right order but wrinkled and distraught; like it was upended angrily and replaced in desperation. Moving towards Neil’s room, he pounds on the door, negligent as to whether he had been sleeping or not, though the light coming under it means he is probably awake. Andrew wishes he would have woken Neil up himself. His roommate opens the door, startled like Andrew is going to tell him the apartment is on fire. Andrew does not waste a second.

Losing himself to the wave of outrage that sweeps over him, Andrew distantly feels his fist plunge into Neil’s torso. “Don’t touch my stuff,” he says, teeth gritted. Through the fuzzy smog of his anger, he distantly watches Neil double over in pain.

When Neil straightens again, Andrew snatches his shoulder and shoves him against the wall. Neil, teeth clenched in pain, grabs his wrist and yanks it off of his shoulder. Even more enraged, Andrew wrenches his arm from Neil’s grip and catches him again, shoving him viciously back, hearing the dull thud of his head against the drywall.

“Keep your hands off of me,” he hears himself say, voice ragged, raking over the words. Mindlessly, he digs his other fist into Neil’s stomach, not waiting for a response. Neil kicks his shin, as hard as he can, though the effect is lessened by his lack of shoes. It will probably bruise. Unphased, Andrew steps away, Neil crumples to the ground like spilled water, hands around his head like a shield. The faded screen of his ire falls away from his eyes, Andrew feels his hands clench and unclench. He steps away from Neil’s injured form, turning towards the living room, snatching his coat from one of the chairs. He shoves down his anger, but one look at Neil would tip it back over, madness spilling out of the cracks. The creeping feeling is back again. Wordlessly, he leaves the apartment, slamming the front door hard enough to hear its hinges rattle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, everyone's support is so lovely! i have at least 11 chapters planned out but I may or may not have the ending planned out (spoiler: i haven't planned shit)  
> I'm also going to (try to) post weekly, my chapters aren't too long i think! (I'm a bit late because I was uncharacteristically busy)


	3. I Better Ace That Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil looks for a job and walks around a lot!
> 
> no warnings for this chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dumbass finally figured out how to center the chapter breakers so let's all pretend they were like that from the beginning ;)

Neil’s stomach has a bruise now, but the throbbing in his head is his biggest irritant. Peeling himself out of bed, Neil goes to the kitchen to gulp down a glass of water. Andrew hasn’t come back since last night- Neil wouldn’t have left his room he did. Despite the bruises and the lump on the back of his head, the worst part about the situation is that he hadn’t found much about Minyard, and anything he’s seen does not make him look good. The fact that he had hit him at all should be enough to drive Neil away, he considers moving away immediately and never setting foot near a city again. Still, it’s cold out and the apartment has heating which -though not very good- is better than nothing. Needing to clear his head, Neil changes into workout clothes and prepares to go on a run. After a bit of contemplation, he puts everything besides his clothing into his duffle bag and takes it with him, not wanting to risk Andrew finding anything incriminating now that Neil has crossed a line. 

Feet hitting the pavement, he sets off on a random street, directionless. New York isn’t that difficult to navigate, and he has money for a cab. He adjusts the strap of his bouncing duffle bag as he jogs, rough material grating against his shirt. He was a bit worried someone would think he looked suspicious, but no one bats an eye. 

As he runs, he thinks about Andrew. The fact that he was willing to hurt Neil -and was decent at it- was the biggest red flag, though Minyard had stepped away when he was down, and Neil supposed it was technically his fault. Still, living with such a volatile person was dangerous; but it reminded him of his mother a little. Not that he assumes Minyard could be a real threat, Neil has dealt with much worse, but Andrew would have no emotional obligation to stop himself from giving information about Neil’s whereabouts to someone. On the other hand, if Neil had shown any remotely positive connection with him, they could hurt Andrew. Not that Neil would really mind, but he promised his mother he’d never drag anyone into their situation. Fortuitously, Andrew was quiet and barely spoke with Nicky even when he helped Neil move in, so he was inclined to believe that Minyard wouldn’t be very helpful if prompted. Neil supposed he could potentially be bribed though, or Nicky could be used against him. They had gone through hell to get to him and his mother and they wouldn’t stop now, especially with his mother out of the picture. They would raze the city to the ground to get their hands on Neil; one roommate wouldn’t stop them no matter how much Andrew could bench press. Neil doesn’t like to mix his problems, though Minyard was only a nuisance as long as he didn’t come into contact with his pursuers; any of the trouble his roommate posed was subsequently overshadowed by Neil’s more pressing familial issues. Neil didn’t know how he could protect Andrew from them if they caught up to him in New York, and his general evasiveness made Andrew harder to keep track of. 

Passing by a small locksmith, he notices a few cheap-looking safes in the window. Inside, it’s warm, the air smells old and has a faint tinge of chemicals. Inspecting a row of boxy, metallic safes about the length of his forearm, he jiggles the number lock. It has no obvious keyhole, but Neil can theoretically open it by pulling on the door and spinning the number dial until he hears a click, though he hopes that Andrew doesn’t know this. Many of the other safes are too expensive for him, and it’s a toss-up whether or not Andrew can even pick locks at all. Still, he feels a bit safer when his valuables have a little more protection. After paying for the safe, he pulls it out of its box and throws away the wrapping, stashing the safe and its instructions in his bag the best he can. It doesn’t quite fit, but he’s not too far from the apartment. 

The sky grows darker, the heavy air turning his skin sticky. Clutching his bag, Neil turns around and starts home. It only drizzles a little, but he is further from the apartment than he prefers and is almost soaked by the time he gets home. Andrew’s shoes are still gone, and the mat near the door was dry before he had come back. Before he goes to shower, he puts his things inside the safe and sets the combination to a string of random numbers, he can just pick it if he forgets. After studying the instructions for a little too long, trying to commit them to memory, he flicks on his cheap plastic lighter, touching the flame to the paper, burning the manual. Neil stuffs the safe as far under his bed as he can, pulling the blankets over the edge to cover it. Satisfied, he checks that his door is locked and goes to shower. 

When he comes out, Andrew isn’t back. He needs to go grocery shopping, though he’d rather not use his stash this much. Over lunch, he looks for possible job listings. The light rain has stopped, so he should be fine to walk. He doesn’t have nice clothes, it’s a frivolous purchase if he’d ever seen one. He does have a button-down shirt from a few years ago, and he figures it will be sufficient for making a “good impression”.

When it had become foreseeable that Neil could outlive his stash of money, he considered getting a job. His mother had never spoken to him about it, so it was tricky to try to figure out what she would have wanted him to do. He needed money, and Neil didn’t trust himself not to get caught if he started stealing any more than pocket change. Unfortunately, being considered an employee meant one of his names would be registered in a database somewhere, and Neil tried to minimize the number of legal processes he put his identities through. It narrowed down a lot of his options, but in the end, he usually took odd jobs, like house-sitting or yard work, and on one particular occasion he helped out at an old corner convenience store, getting paid under the table by the old Colombian woman who owned it. Subsequently, Neil didn’t want to apply for anything corporate, but he wasn’t sure how much work he could get in a city that wouldn’t formally consider him an employee. If he has to be registered as an employee, he hopes he won’t have to work in customer service; he’s not sure how his temper will hold up and too much exposure to people was bound to end badly for him. Whilst looking for jobs earlier, Neil had decided it would be the safest to find places that were willing to hire him in person and weren’t so uptight. 

Despite looking at job listings on multiple occasions, Neil doesn’t know where to go. He decides to wander around until he finds a place asking for help. He’s not sure how well his luck will hold up, but it’s worth a try; Neil can’t stand another day of lounging around in restlessly his room. He sees a small pizza shop with a small “help wanted” sign, red and blue neon vibrant against the graying atmosphere. He inhales steadily and pushes the door open, the shopkeeper’s electronic bell chime filling his ears.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A family pizza parlor, a small law firm, and a relatively popular bookstore later, Neil is tired and out of options. His resume was sparse, he lied about as much as he could, but he doesn’t have a degree or much valuable, provable work experience. He couldn’t use any of his other jobs on his resume, any continuity could give him away. He did, however, go with the same story as he had told Nicky; inconsistencies for major life events like that could backfire on him. He added in as many relevant skills as he could confidently speak about, but his actual expertise on things like running or pickpocketing wasn’t relevant or legal. Neil’s potential employers did not seem very impressed, and it was getting late, too late to look for any more jobs. None of the places had explicitly turned him down, as was to be expected, but everyone seemed uninterested or impatient. 

His feet ached from walking so far. He needed to ride the subway back. Looking for the nearest entrance, Neil sees a crowded line of people waiting to get into a bar of some kind. Weaving through the throng of people, Neil feels a hand grab his shoulder, firm grip preventing him from shaking it off. Whirling around wildly, he finds a young woman a little taller than him, examining him intently.

“Will Boyle? Are you Will?” she asks, in disbelief.

Neil shakes his head, suppressing the urge to wrench her hand off of him. Someone bumps into him momentarily. 

“Oh, I thought you looked familiar. Are you sure you’re not Will?” It’s a stupid question, though Neil knows what she means. He shakes his head again, backing away.

“Oh sorry, I-” her voice gets lost in the noise. Neil disappears, quickly scuttling down the steps of the subway.

Her words irk him. In his experience, people aren’t good at recognizing people. She didn’t look familiar, but possibilities race through his mind, rushing like cars on an open highway. 

His skin crawls. If she had recognized him from his senior year, this wouldn’t be that much of a problem, but if she had somehow remembered him when he was someone else, he was screwed. New York was a big city, but if he could run into her once, he could run into her again. He’d never been “Will” or “Boyle” but if he was with his mother, it might’ve been enough for her to move them away.

For now, he needed to prioritize getting a job. Money was low, and if he wanted to move he’d have to get enough money for a ticket and new documents. It was difficult to work with his mother’s contacts now that she was gone, but most of them are still willing to help Neil because of her. 

He stumbles up to the apartment, his head heavy with weariness, the bite of desperation keeping him afloat. Kicking off his shoes at the door, he throws himself on the couch, spine creaking with relief. Once sitting, though, he can’t bring himself to stand. He needs a job, and then he needs to leave. If he can make a little more than minimum wage, he’ll eat cheaply and will be able to save up enough money for a ticket. Neil taps his finger on his knee, going over the math he did when he signed his lease. If he makes a generous $16 an hour doing 40 hour weeks, it would take him about four months to make enough money to leave. Every month that he stayed, though, would take away from his total: rent, groceries, and other necessary expenses. That being said, if he whittled down the total amount of time by working more jobs or finding other ways to make money, he could save a whole month’s worth of rent. Neil thought Andrew would be happy to know he would be gone soon. It’s stressful and probably more than he can comfortably handle, but he’s used to it. He just has to make it three months. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i hope everyone is staying safe, especially lately! send me a message if you need anything :)


	4. A Taxi I'm So Very Payin' For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew goes to lunch with his family and encounters Neil again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings this week! 
> 
> decided to post a little earlier in the day, because i finished early!

Dropping his keys on the counter, Andrew shoves off his boots, though, he’ll need them again when he leaves work. The apartment is dark, save for the yellowing dim kitchen lights and any light coming from their uncovered windows. Neil is sitting on the couch, staring into space, looking uncharacteristically melancholy. Andrew doesn’t think he had noticed Andrew was home, despite his habit of almost door-slamming and his general disregard for peace and tranquility he isn’t included in. He turns, though, to look at Andrew, but Neil realizes who it is and moves back around to stare at the darkened television, a dark look in his eyes. Andrew retreats into his room. He doesn’t know what it means, but Andrew thinks he understands. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He hasn’t seen Neil since, but Andrew still stays out of the living room just to minimize contact. He has lunch with Nicky and Aaron today, some sort of biweekly tradition that his cousin _insists_ he go to, though Andrew isn’t one for complaining so long as he doesn’t have to pay. When he gets to the restaurant, Nicky and Aaron are already sitting, which irks Andrew even though he was ten minutes late. Nicky seems like he’s describing something, Aaron is nodding along, Nicky beams and him when he sits, but he doesn’t pause his explanation to greet him. 

The waitress comes over and they order. Andrew typically orders real food, but currently, he’s feeling childishly annoyed, so he orders ice cream and fries and pretends not to see the uncomfortable look Aaron shoots Nicky. 

Andrew watches the waitress walk away, waiting for the inevitable. He doesn’t have to wait long, because Nicky pipes up. “So, Andrew...” He seems unsure, but Andrew stares at him until he finds the words. “How is work?” 

Andrew is unimpressed. He has asked this first every single time except when Andrew had cut his hair. 

“It’s work,” Andrew replies, trying to will the waitress to bring them their food so he has an excuse to be busy. 

“It’s good?” Andrew looks at him, refusing to reply. Nicky looks uncomfortable but turns back to Aaron. His brother eyes him for a second and then focuses on Nicky. Andrew lets out a minute sigh.

The waitress brings their food, and Andrew shoves ice cream into his mouth before Nicky can speak to him again. While Aaron and Nicky talk, Andrew watches their waitress speak to another patron, noting their order in fast, clipped handwriting on her tiny notepad. He wonders how many pages she goes through in a day, and how many notebooks they have, waiting to be filled with orders. His spoon scrapes the bottom of the ceramic bowl, and Andrew reaches for a handful of fries, arm stretching across the wooden table. Aaron looks at the reaching hand beside him and then back at Nicky. Andrew contemplates knocking his brother’s glass of water into his lap the next time he gets more fries. 

The third time Andrew reaches towards Aaron to get more, Nicky slides the basket next to him. Andrew glares at the wood of the table, watching as grainy pathways dance underneath their plates. He wants to leave. 

Instead of him, though, it’s Aaron who moves first. He stands up abruptly and mutters something about the bathroom. Andrew watches him go, avoiding Nicky’s eye. 

His cousin still speaks, regardless of Andrew’s unwillingness to talk. “Are you going to talk to me?”

“Are you going to ask something you don’t know the answer to?”

Nicky looks at him, thinking. “How are things going with Neil?”

Andrew almost decides not to speak again. “He has no hobbies and doesn’t leave his room. I wouldn’t have known his name if you hadn’t told me.”

“Okay, but how do you feel about him? He’s really cute, right?”

Andrew shoots him a glare, hoping it conveys how much he doesn’t want to have this conversation with his cousin. “He’s annoying.”

“But I thought you just said he doesn’t leave his room! How can he annoy you?” Nicky gestures incredulously at him with a fry.

“He’s just annoying.” Andrew watches Aaron leave the bathroom.

Nicky turns and also sees him. “And another thing, why don’t you talk to Aaron, he-”

“I have already told you,” Andrew says. Aaron is walking towards them. “I have nothing to say to him.”

“Andrew, c’mon,” Nicky pleads. His brother maneuvers around a table, getting closer. “Why don’t you just speak to him? It doesn’t have to be important I just think that he would-”

“No. I told you I would not speak with Aaron after he-” Aaron is at the table. Andrew wrenches his mouth shut and looks away.

Nicky looks more desperate. “Andrew, ple- I mean, I think you’re too hard on him.” Aaron looks like he knows exactly what they had been talking about. He glares down at his plate, burning a hole into the porcelain. 

Andrew does not bother with an answer. It wasn’t a question, and he wouldn’t give either of them the satisfaction of replying anyway.

Nicky opens his mouth like he’s going to protest Andrew’s non-answer, but he sighs and turns back to Aaron. 

Andrew does not see their waitress anywhere. He tunes them out, staring out of the far window for the rest of the meal. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Andrew leaves quickly, before Nicky and continues their useless conversation. When he gets home, Neil is gone, not on the couch or in his room. He treads down the hallway, eye-catching on a small piece of foil sticking out from under Neil’s door. He hesitates but bends down to snatch it from under the door. It’s a pair of unopened brown contacts, and Andrew can’t help shake the feeling that he’s stuck in some sort of giant, matrix-like puzzle and this is the only way out. He pockets the contacts for later. 

A while later, he hears Neil get back, and the shower cut on. When the water cuts off again, Andrew takes the contacts and stands outside of the bathroom door. Neil looks surprised when he opens the door to find Andrew leaning on the wall, waiting. Neil pauses for a second, waiting for him to speak. When he concludes that he has nothing to say, he walks past him and towards his room. Andrew, who takes his speaking queues like he’s panning for time, is unreasonably irked by this.

“Have any ideas about these?” He holds up the packet of contacts between his index finger and thumb. 

Neil turns to see what he’s talking about and fails to suppress a wince. “Those aren’t mine,” he says, like he isn’t the only person with brown eyes that lives in the apartment.

Andrew ignores this. “What color are your real eyes?” 

Neil glares and walks into his room, almost slamming the door. Andrew settles on the wall, content to wait. 

He doesn’t have to wait for very long. Neil comes out a few moments later, heading towards the kitchen. He ignores Andrew, refusing to spare him a glance. Andrew trails him, following him into the kitchen and leaning against the counter while Neil rinses an apple. 

“The contacts, Neil?” Andrew asks, after a minute. He watches Neil bite into the apple, waxy red skin revealing its ivory-colored insides. 

Neil looks vexed. “Are you entitled to my business?”

“I’m entitled to the lies I uncover,” Andrew says, sounding unhelpful as usual.

Neil looks like he couldn’t physically disagree more, but he pauses, glaring at Andrew. Now, Andrew can spot the ring in his supposedly brown eyes. “Just leave me alone.”

Neil turns away. Andrew is not deterred. He snatches the back of Neil’s shirt, halting him from heading towards his room. “Let’s play a game. You tell me the truth, and I give you something in exchange for it.” Andrew couldn’t be bothered to say it any more elegantly.

Neil looks at him like he’s suggested Neil is being kidnapped by aliens. “No.” 

This back and forth is starting to bore him. “Why are you hiding your eyes, Neil?” 

Neil looked angry now. “Why are there knives up your sleeves?” he shot back. Andrew suppresses a flinch, letting the contacts fall onto the floor. This was new, and not in a good way. Frustrated, Andrew drops his grip on Neil’s shirt and storms into his room, letting the door slam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> being three chapters ahead of my posting is really weird, any comments I had about writing a chapter i've forgotten.
> 
> this week was surprisingly slow, but you won't see the chapter until three weeks from now! (though hopefully you won't be able to tell). luckily this chapter didn't need much work, good job me from three weeks ago!
> 
> thanks for reading, stay warm and safe!


	5. Run Like a Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil gets an important email and learns more about his mysterious roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings for this one!

The knife accusation was a shot in the dark, he’ll admit it. Still, Minyard’s reaction is enough of an answer. Andrew doesn’t seem like much of a liar, but he doubts he needs to lie very much, considering how little his roommate speaks. Neil has no qualms about lying, but he thinks that Minyard could probably benefit from a little more willingness to cover up his tracks. At least it makes Neil's job easier. 

Truthfully, he hadn’t noticed Andrew’s arm covers for a while. He had only seen him briefly in anything but long sleeves, and the only instance Neil could remember was when his roommate had come out of the shower wearing a tank top. This hadn’t been enough to suspect anything, but they had unfortunately crossed paths during breakfast one morning and his shirt sleeve slid down, revealing the black fabric beneath. Neil had started wondering about them; he didn’t think it had been cold enough in the apartment to need another layer. He didn’t remember seeing them when he went through Andrew’s room, but he might’ve dismissed them as sweatbands or some other item of clothing. He had only asked when he saw Andrew wearing them under his sleeves. It wasn’t far-fetched to assume he was hiding sheathes, though Neil was a little surprised that he would be armed this frequently, especially with something as unconventional and inconvenient as a knife. 

Andrew still hadn’t hurt him besides a few bruises, but he was too volatile to be considered safe. Neil wonders how Nicky can put up with someone so unpredictably irate if he does at all. He needed to figure this out before things inevitably went wrong - if not to prolong the damage, then to lessen it. 

The next day after his morning run, Neil sits on his bed, looking out of the window. The sun is finally out, washing the grey buildings in blue, illuminating the sidewalks. The city hasn’t seen a clear day since Neil had arrived, though he hadn’t minded the greying skies until they became synonymous with the sinking feeling of hopelessness that seems to greet Neil every morning. Outside it is quiet, as quiet as the city can be. He watches a couple walk their dog, feeling an unexpected spike of jealousy shoot through him. He momentarily wishes to be something else, anywhere else but where he is right now. Not physically, of course, though Neil intimately knows the bitter irony of traversing the world and knowing you’ll never be able to stay anywhere; that he wouldn’t be allowed to belong no matter where he was. He shoves down the thought. His mother told him that there was no point in being jealous of other people, that he should just be thankful that he’s alive. He hadn’t brought it up again with her, but he’s since seen the value of her words. Regardless of whether or not he’s jealous, it wouldn’t change his life for the better. Neil did not want to be bothered with useless emotions, so he rationalized with them until they didn’t bother to show up.

Neil can’t help but wonder, though, if “jealous” was the right word. Would it be callous to assume that his longing was born out of anything other than desperation or sorrow? He does not know if it’s wrong to ask for more than this, more than paranoia and fear and pain as if asking for some semblance of normalcy is gluttonous. The couple turns down the street, disappearing behind a building. If he had to choose a word, Neil would say he’s covetous, not envious.

The sun has moved so it reflects off of car windows and onto him. He turns his head so the light doesn’t hurt his vision, eyes falling on his laptop, carelessly placed near the end of his bed, charging. Indifferently, he pulls it closer to him, deleting all of the unopened email newsletters that he can’t be bothered to unsubscribe from. His eyes fall on a message from what looks like the bookstore. When he opens it, it reveals an acceptance letter. 

Neil’s head spins. It feels like there's no way to go but forward, no way to uproot his life and never be seen again He reads the letter repeatedly, double-checking the name. The sight of "Neil Josten" at the top makes him queasy. The email tells him to show up next Thursday to begin his training. Neil puts it into his computer calendar with shaky hands, though he doubts he could forget it if he tried.

Abruptly, he stands, swinging his socked feet over the edge of the bed. He wants to run, but Neil doesn’t know if he would be able to stop. He eyes his running shoes at the door, but he puts on his more casual pair so he won’t be tempted.

The elevator takes a second too long, so he hops down the stairs one foot at a time, feeling breathless when he reaches the bottom. Neil starts onto the street, careful to pace himself. 

He strolls around aimlessly, thinking about the job. He applied; he wanted this, but he’d have to meet people, help customers, his name would be on a nametag, maybe, on a timesheet of their schedules. Neil could count on one hand everyone he knows in New York, but the number of fingers that would point towards him when trouble came calling could get dangerously high. He wished he hadn’t come to the city, but Neil didn’t know when he’d have this much freedom about where he could live again. He didn’t mind the city as much, there was always something to watch and no one paid him any attention. Crowds made his skin crawl, but if he ever felt uneasy they were a quick escape from whoever had been looking for him. Neil didn’t bother with any tourist attractions, he didn’t want to seem like an outsider. Still, there was never a dull moment here, and he needed a break from small towns and an overabundance of gas stations.

He stopped at a light, crossing over to avoid a patch of sidewalk construction. Neil could mostly find his way around, but the tall buildings and concrete repetition tested the limits of his sense of direction. Usually, he’d just take the subway or look at a bus map if he was lost. 

He could still retrace his steps back to the apartment, though. Wishing the brick apartments and pizza parlors would swallow him whole, he started in a direction he’d never been before, trying to scrub his memory of the streets he had already taken. The looming threat of his new job still trailed after him. It felt like chasing his shadow through a maze: as many paths as he could wish for and no hope of winning. They could never help him, never leave. Taxis and gum-stained sidewalks wouldn’t erase his footsteps whether he wanted them to or not.

Wishing he would’ve let himself go on a run, Neil took another random turn. There was nothing to run from yet, not in the literal sense, but the unwelcome sense of unease muddled his usually clear thoughts. He had a path, he had a job offer, he had wanted it. There was no other option but to take the job. Still, he felt like this was his last chance to get out. He could grab his stuff and leave the apartment if he wanted to, Minyard wouldn’t even bat an eye. The job though, people needed him. He hadn’t met them yet but people would come calling if he left unexpectedly if only to demand proper resignation. Once he started, his name would be everywhere, stamped into forms and papers and calendars, unforgettably erasable. 

Even if he left now, retracing his steps, taking his duffle bag, never appearing again, his name would still be on their emails, on the apartment’s lease. Andrew wouldn’t care, but if Nicky found out he’d inexplicably gone missing, he might call the police. Neil could live with a few acquaintances puzzling over his whereabouts, but if the authorities looked too hard they would see through his flimsy alias in a heartbeat. 

Neil steps around a kit of pigeons, almost stumbling on the uprooted sidewalk of a nearby tree. He’s about to cross the street again but impulsively veers left at the last second. He steps around a puddle and hears his name.

“Neil! Neil! Over here!”

He turns, eyes sifting through the crowd of people. He finds Nicky, waving an arm to get his attention. He looks like he’s about to go into a restaurant but he’s stepped to the side of the door to wave Neil over. Neil doesn’t have an excuse to walk away, so he makes his way over.

“Hey, Neil. How are you?” Nicky asks, eyes alight with joy.

“I’m okay,” he replies. “How are you?”

“I’m great! Just about to get lunch, actually.” Nicky pauses for a split second. “Would you like to eat with me?”

Neil almost declines, but his mind freezes on the image of their empty fridge. “Sure, will it take long?”

Nicky clapped his hands like he didn’t hear him and went into the restaurant. Neil followed him in, sitting across from him at a table for two near the window. Looking at the menu, it seemed to be at a Korean place that was slightly overpriced. He didn’t know very much about Korean food, but he looked through the menu nonetheless. Nicky glanced at his menu for a moment but dropped it onto the table quickly, waiting for Neil to finish choosing. 

He sets his menu down and looks at Nicky.

“So, how are things with Andrew?” 

“Uh, they’re okay. I don’t know.”

“Okay, because Andrew wouldn’t tell me a single thing last time I asked and he’s always so closed-off around everyone. I know he’s not really shy, he’s just a total loner. I was wondering if you could fill me in on the details because I know it was hard for him to get a roommate and I want to know if things are going well or not,” Nicky says, not bothering to pause for breath. 

Neil still doesn’t think “shy” is the right word at all. “Everything is fine. We don't speak very much, and he’s usually in his room.” If Andrew hadn’t mentioned their rocky start, neither would he.

“Really? He said the same thing about you! I wish I could get him to make more friends. He’s been like this since I met him.”

Neil hums in acknowledgment. Nicky lets out a sigh.

“I took care of him and his twin brother, Aaron, in their junior and senior years. They didn’t even have friends.” It raises a few questions, but Neil is caught by the “twin” thing.  _ One  _ Andrew was one too many.

Neil decides on “Andrew has a twin?”

“Yeah, but they didn’t know about each other until they were, like, 13. My aunt separated Andrew into foster care.” Neil thinks “separated” was a weird way to say “give up”, but Nicky doesn’t seem finished. “I don’t know very much about their relationship in the beginning, but things weren't good. They hated each other, something about a deal, I think? They still do now, but neither of them will tell me anything. I’m not sure what happened, but in their fourth year of college, Andrew just started pretending Aaron didn’t exist. Before that, they had mostly avoided each other, but it wasn’t anything  _ too _ bad. After, Andrew purposely left Aaron behind if he was late, wouldn’t bring him food if he ordered, stuff like that. Aaron wouldn’t even look at him unless he was telling off Andrew, though he didn’t care. I had to keep the peace, or someone would have gotten hurt.”

“Is Aaron really as bad as Andrew?” He winces, not meaning to sound so blunt in front of him, but Nicky just laughs.

“Yeah. He’s much nicer around his girlfriend, but he still refuses to talk about what happened with Andrew.” Nicky seems surprisingly accepting of their mysteriously awful behavior. If Neil had to raise two Andrews, he would’ve given up by now. 

Neil isn’t sure what to say now, but Nicky launches into another story. “They were staying with me while they went to college. I was doing online school before they went to college because I couldn’t go in person and take care of them. I wanted to move back to Germany with Erik after they graduated, but they were on such bad terms that I couldn’t let them live on their own without doing something without it. I still had a job here, so I decided to stick around. I just don’t know what to do about them.” Despite his words, Nicky seems upbeat. Neil could never imagine making that much of a sacrifice for anyone, or at least anyone living.

“Aaron is a bit nicer since he got into grad school. Andrew apparently saved, like, a lot of his half of their mother’s life insurance, and he helped pay for Aaron’s medical school! Aaron didn’t know how to react,” Nicky says, eyes wide. “I didn’t either. Aaron stopped getting so mad at him, and Andrew acts like nothing happened. It's the same as it was before their fourth year. I force them to eat lunch with me every other week, but it’s just awkward. I do eat with Andrew every week, and he talks to me when Aaron's not around, but he won't say a word around him.” He rolls his eyes. “They’re way too similar; don’t tell Andrew though, or he’ll get upset.” 

Neil is about to reply when the waitress brings their food. Nicky distractedly changes the subject, launching into a rant about his favorite Korean dishes. Neil wants to press him for more answers, but Nicky doesn’t seem like he knows many details. If he did, he was purposely holding back. They’re not close enough for Nicky to give Neil the answers he wants, so he nods along, trying to figure out how he’s at all related to the twins.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*♡*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After lunch, Neil says goodbye to Nicky and makes his way home, taking a different route so he doesn’t have to retrace his steps, still muddy with his thoughts.

He thinks about what Nicky had said about Andrew and his brother. Andrew is considerably less of a threat when Neil knows about his past, and Neil doesn’t have any qualms about holding whatever he can over Minyard’s head if he has to. Not that Neil had thought Andrew was working for someone bad, but he seemed relatively harmless as long as Neil didn’t give him a reason to hurt him. 

He  _ was  _ curious about his relationship with Aaron, but it didn’t concern him and he didn’t need to deal with someone as frustrating as Andrew more than he had to. Nicky seemed to care about them, but Neil thinks that he’s too forgiving with Andrew. He pities Nicky, especially with how obvious it was that neither of his cousins cared to fix things with each other. Andrew seemed unreasonable at best and downright impossible at worst, especially with something as fragile as his relationship with his brother. Though Neil couldn’t imagine Andrew finding Nicky anything but tiresome, it was notably important that Andrew was unwilling to work with people he’d known for years; Nicky had been his sole guardian for a while and Minyard still refused to compromise or figure things out. If Neil was to deal with him, he would need a different approach; Andrew did not seem fallible to acts of kindness or any sort of cordial diplomacy.

By the time Neil arrives at the apartment, he’s come to a conclusion. Neil trudges down the hallway to their door, fumbling for his keys. The only way to deal with Andrew is to brute force his way through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy five chapters (1/3 of the way there)! it was actually my birthday yesterday, so i was a bit crunched for time this week! It all worked out though, I'm still posting on time and I'm not behind on schedule! stay safe and warm!


	6. White Button-Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew has a bad day and argues with Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for Neil being not very understanding about Andrew's eating preferences  
> tw for Andrew having a depressive (?) episode
> 
> let me know if you need anything relating to warnings!

Things have been considerably different ever since he and Neil had talked - if you could call it a conversation. Neil had been giving him weird, analyzing looks since he came back from presumably a run one afternoon. Andrew had thought he was checking him out or something like it, but his roommate’s narrowed eyes seemed more appalled than anything else. It was obnoxious, and the staring happened so frequently that Andrew had almost asked him what his problem was, though Neil had always turned or averted his gaze before Andrew could catch him. 

Tuesday morning, Andrew slumps into the kitchen, trying to clear the blurry patches in his vision, light filtering in through the living room windows. His insatiable appetite demanded he makes waffles this morning, and he is nothing if not its humble servant. Stretching onto his toes, he pulls out the waffle mix from a cabinet. Just as he sets the box down, Andrew hears the front door open, Neil’s keys jingling as he kicks off his shoes, back from his morning run. Andrew pulls out a bowl from under the sink. Going into the fridge he pulls out the jug of milk, ignoring the footsteps behind him. They stop, though when he turns around Neil stands at the entrance of the kitchen, hands planted firmly on his hips, glaring at Andrew. He’s wearing his ridiculously short running shorts, and Andrew ignores him, pouring the waffle mix into a measuring cup. Neil huffs and walks away, to hopefully shower and give Andrew a few much-needed moments of peace.

Andrew grabs the handle of the jug of milk, trying to scrub the image of Neil out of his mind. If he was being honest, Neil would be a great roommate if he hadn’t opened his mouth; no matter how attractive Andrew thought he was, he was too much of a nuisance for it to be worth it. He pours the milk into the bowl, lazily mixing the ingredients together. As much as he tries to ignore it, Andrew can’t help how much Neil grits against his nerves. He’s infamously patient, but whenever he and Neil clash, he doesn’t want to wait, he wants to leave. He flips the waffle press, delighted at the scent of cooking batter. Andrew hears the bathroom door open again but doesn’t bother to look. If he’s lucky, Neil will have something else to do whilst Andrew eats his waffles in peace. 

Andrew is never that lucky. Cramming as much whipped cream as he can onto a single waffle, he hears watches Neil leave his room and stand at the kitchen entrance again, probably surveying Andrew’s waffle-making process. Deciding his waffles are adequately topped, Andrew carries his plate to the island, cutting into the giant pile with anticipation. 

“Are you trying to develop type two diabetes?” Neil asks incredulously, unprompted.

You can’t develop diabetes from eating sugar, but Andrew thinks it’s beside the point. He narrows his eyes at Neil, shoving another bite into his mouth. 

“I can’t believe you can even taste anything like that. Are you sure you’re not desensitized to sugar?” Andrew wishes he could shut off Neil’s voice.

“I don’t take criticism from someone who ate store-bought salad and dry cereal for three days in a row.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. If I cared about you, I’d be concerned for your health.” 

Andrew meets his eyes, holding his gaze while he shovels another bite into his mouth. Neil rolls his eyes and rummages through the fridge, probably for an apple. Their arguments, no matter how mundane, are the only time he and Neil ever interact. Neil constantly nitpicks his lifestyle, and in turn, Andrew does things he knows Neil will hate, just to spite him. Truthfully, he almost misses getting under people’s skin this much, especially when his family had lived with him. 

This sort of arguing had been going on for a while, though it seemed like they mutually started conflict not because they were having any actual problems, and more to annoy the other person. Neil had once chided him for taking a shower too long, so Andrew was especially loud when he came home from work that night. He didn’t think Neil would mention it, but when he did, Andrew countered with the fact that he stomped around every morning when he went on his runs. Neil didn’t, at least not intentionally, but this particular altercation resulted in a week’s worth of door slamming and jingling keys. Andrew, surprisingly, was the one to end it, but it was only because it would’ve gone on forever and by the sixth or seventh day, Andrew was dead on his feet at work and had semi-permanent eye bags. When Neil was being particularly disagreeable though, he would kick his shoes off a little harder than necessary just to remind Neil who was in control.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In the night, Andrew is plagued with dreams, terrifyingly familiar, unable to forget. Andrew wakes up paralyzed, powerless to the almost unbearable weight in his limbs. He stares at the door and does not move until the light has changed, time blending like sickeningly sweet syrup. This isn’t sweet, though, this is sour, sticky, nauseating. When it’s probably past the time he should get up, Andrew tries to move: he envisions sitting up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, but can’t. His body is impossibly anchored to the bed, his mind replaying the command, sit up, swing, walk. An indeterminable amount of time later, his body finally complies. He kicks his feet over the edge, barely brushing the ground.

From there, it’s easier. Still sluggish, Andrew eventually finds himself in the kitchen. Neil is nowhere to be found, and Andrew would be late if he had wanted to go to the gym at his usual time. He stares at the fridge, unwilling or unable to make any breakfast that requires any kind of preparation. The light is grey from where it floods in through the windows, and Andrew is cast in the cold fridge light, frigid air flowing around him. He gazes at the contents of the fridge, much longer than he would’ve needed to memorize it, until the fridge starts to ding obnoxiously, the alert blaring like he had forgotten to close the door. The unwavering sound makes his head throb. All of a sudden, his limbs couldn’t move again, paralyzed and frozen in time, doomed to hear the fridge alarm, blinded by the fridge light forever. 

Andrew wasn’t sure how long he stands there, but Neil comes out of his room to investigate the noise, when he steps into the kitchen Andrew slams the refrigerator door, hoping Neil doesn’t ask.

In a rare stroke of Andrew’s luck, he doesn’t, though he watches him with a slightly-offended contemplative expression that Andrew thinks will become permanent if Neil doesn’t let him be. He despises the feeling of Neil’s scrutinous glare, but he doesn’t have the energy to tell him to fuck off, so he turns and grabs the first sugary cereal he sees in the closest cabinet, and pours himself a bowl, planning to eat it dry. Andrew grabs a spoon and starts to make his way to peninsula chairs, but his legs abruptly refuse to move and he plops down on the linoleum tiles in the middle of the kitchen, shoveling Lucky Charms down his throat. Neil looks even more surprised, but it was probably because Andrew wasn't picking out the marshmallows and throwing the rest away. 

After a moment, Neil looks away and peels one of the oranges sitting on the counter. He goes to get a glass of water, and Andrew ignores him, reveling in the momentary solitude.

It doesn’t last for long though, because soon Neil turns away from the sink, properly glaring at Andrew.

“Why didn’t you wash my dishes last night if you were running the dishwasher?” Neil had uncharacteristically bought another set of plates a bit after he moved in; Andrew didn’t own enough for the both of them. He still lets Neil use his other utensils, though, and quite graciously if you ask him.

Andrew just shrugs, letting his shoulders sag.

Neil opens his mouth like he’s going to snap at him, but he studies Andrew again for a moment and huffs, shuffling back to his room. 

Andrew watches him go, sitting on the kitchen floor until he can muster the strength to pick himself up again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ♡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When he shows up for his appointment with Bee, the sky is still a bland shade of grey. If he hadn’t looked at the clock in his car, he wouldn’t be able to tell what time of day it is. Surprisingly, he’s on time, and Andrew supposes Bee can help with the awful stillness that clouds his mind. She smiles at him as he walks in. He doesn’t bother returning the gesture.

“How are you doing today, Andrew?” She asks, like always.

“Bad day.” His voice is rough at the edges, cracking in the middle. It is the first time he’s spoken since last night at work. 

“That’s unfortunate,” Bee comments, sympathetic. Andrew thinks that this is a redundant observation, coming from his psychiatrist. “Is there any particular cause? Would you like to talk about it?”

Andrew shakes his head no as an answer to both. As much as Andrew would like to blame his functional ineptitudes on last night’s dreams, he knows he’s definitely felt better even after he’s had the dreams. It’s frustrating that this seems to come from nowhere; Andrew prides himself on his self-control, constantly dissecting every aspect of himself in his mind. This shouldn’t be unknown.

“That’s alright,” Bee says, jotting something down in her notebook. Andrew remembers wishing he could rip it from her hands when they had first met, though he couldn’t have done anything through the screen. He’s glad they can meet in person now, he doesn’t know how he survived when they were roughly 700 miles apart. “We can discuss it later when you’re feeling better if you would like. How are things going with your family?”

Andrew shrugs. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

She tilts her head a bit, meeting his eye. “How about your roommate then? How do you feel about him?”

Andrew absently wishes she hadn’t phrased the question like that. “He’s a nuisance. And a liar.”

“What about him annoys you?” She scribbles something else.

“He doesn’t leave me alone.” Bee nods.

“How do you know he’s lying? What is he lying about?” Andrew thinks he would have laughed if it was a different year.

“What isn’t he lying about? He doesn’t act like a real person.” Another note.

She tilts her head. “What do you mean by that?”

Andrew doesn’t know how to answer. Neil isn’t an inconsistent liar, but his persona is nonsensical and lifeless. Andrew debates telling her about the contacts. In the end, he says, “I hate him.”

Bee’s pen scratches the paper again. “Is there any particular reason for this?”

This is dangerous territory, that much Andrew knows. Even on a good day, Andrew would be barely willing to have this conversation. He shakes his head. “Talk about something else.”

“Aright,” Bee says, looking up from her notepad completely. “Would you like to hear about my day?”

Andrew nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh it's so hard to summarize your own writing! also I'm trying to get ahead of my required 3 chapters, so I can post more frequently!
> 
> i just had a giant slice of chocolate cake and now i know how Andrew feels when i made him eat those waffles omg 
> 
> thanks for reading! stay safe and don't forget to wear a mask!


End file.
